


we used to be closer than this (is it something you miss?)

by sopaloma



Series: coexist [1]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Marriage, Separation, alternative universe - future
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2017-07-19
Packaged: 2018-12-03 08:18:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11528283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sopaloma/pseuds/sopaloma
Summary: They've been doing this for four months now but it hasn't gotten any easier.Jughead hates looking at the house that used to be his - and even worse, the girl that used to be his - knowing all that awaits him is last night's take-out and shitty TV in his one bedroom apartment.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> title from The xx, "Chained"
> 
> Warning, this is full of angst. And it's kind of dirty.

They've been doing this for four months now but it hasn't gotten any easier.

Jughead hates looking at the house that used to be his - and even worse, the girl that used to be his - knowing all that awaits him is last night's take-out and shitty TV in his one bedroom apartment.

"I'll see you in a few days, Bug." Jughead crouches down to his son's level and presses a kiss into his hair.

Elliot nods sadly and wraps his arms around Jughead's neck. The back and forth is still unsettling for him. He doesn't understand why he has to go to a new place now to see his dad and he's always a little clingy when Jughead drops him back at his mom's.

"We'll do something fun - you can pick," he tells him, hoping to lift his mood.

Elliot pulls back with a grin. "The planetarium?"

"Again?" he groans, because this will be the third time this month. "Fine," he sighs dramatically as if it will be some great effort.

Elliot bounces on his toes in excitement. "It's gonna be so fun, Dad, I promise."

He smiles fondly at his nerdy little boy. He gets that from both of them.

"Okay, kid." He kisses forehead. "I'll see you soon. Be good for your mom."

"I will!" he shouts as he runs up the path towards Betty, who's waiting at the open door.

"Later, Betts," he calls out to her as he heads to his car.

"Jug, wait!" she shouts, jogging down the path before he can climb inside. "There's a meeting at Elliot's school next week to discuss how he's getting on. Are you gonna come?"

"Definitely. When is it?"

"Thursday at six."

"I'll be there," he promises.

He makes a mental note to write it on the calendar on his fridge. This is another opportunity to show Betty how much he's trying and he's not going to fuck it up.

"Great," she says and there's an awkward pause. It's the first time they've been alone in a while and neither of them knows what to say. "I'll, uh, see you on Thursday then."

"Thursday," he repeats with a nod.

There's a painful tug in his chest as he watches her walk away but that's nothing new. With a sigh he gets into his car and drives away, leaving his whole world behind in that little white house they had bought together six years ago.

 

 

 

He wasn't sure what you were supposed to wear to this kind of thing, so he put on his nicest shirt and jeans, and the only pair of boots he owns without holes in them. Betty looks smart in her work clothes - a button-up and pencil skirt - and she doesn't make a comment about his appearance so he must look okay.

"What's his teacher's name, again?" he asks as they wait outside the classroom.

"Miss Brooks," she responds. "Elliot loves her. He doesn't stop talking about when he gets home from school."

Jughead can't help but feel jealous. Since Elliot had started school two months ago, Jughead hasn't picked him up once - their custody arrangement didn't work out that way - and so he's never been around to hear Elliot rambling about his friends, or his school work, or his favorite teacher. It's yet another thing that he's missing out on.

Said teacher opens the door and ushers out two parents before turning to them with a smile.

"Mr and Mrs Jones?"

He expects Betty to correct her but she doesn't. Technically she still is Mrs Jones but Betty has no intention of keeping his name.

"That's us," she says, Cooper-grin out in full force as she shakes her hand.

They take a seat in front of Miss Brooks desk, Betty's thigh pressed against his. It's the most contact he's had with her in months and it's making him feel like a goddamn teenager.

"You and Elliot really are so alike," Miss Brooks observes, looking over at Jughead.

"He's my mini-me," Jughead agrees with a proud grin.

"If I hadn't carried him for nine months, you wouldn't know he was mine," Betty jokes, and it's kind of true.

Elliot's features are all Jughead, from his dark hair, to the curve of his nose, even the shape of his chin. They only distinguishing Betty-feature on his little face are his eyes - although shaped like Jughead's, they're a bright sea-green, just like his mother's.

Jughead wouldn't have it any other way. He's always loved Betty's eyes.

"Well you have a very imaginative little boy, I'll give you that. Although, as the child of two writers I would expect nothing less."

He can see the pride on Betty's face at that.

Elliot seems to have made a great start at school, fitting in well amongst his peers and easily making friendships with some of the kids in his class. Miss Brooks informs them that his reading level is higher than average for his age and in the next few weeks the class will be learning how to tell the time.

"Our kid's an angel," Jughead says when they leave the class room.

Betty laughs. "He did make that pretty easy for us. He's always been smart but it's different hearing it from an educator who knows what they're talking about."

"I'm just glad he's making friends. He definitely doesn't take after me socially."

"Thank God for that," Betty says, but there's a teasing smile on her face.

Elliot could be the most shy, socially-awkward child in the world and they would still think he's the greatest thing to ever happen to them.

Jughead isn't looking forward to heading back to an empty apartment and now that he's alone with her, he really wants Betty to stick around.

"Do you wanna get a coffee?" he asks as they leave the school building.

It's a risk but he can't take the words back now.

She checks the time on her watch. To his surprise, she agrees.

"I could go for one. My mom's not bringing Bug back for another hour."

"Great."

They head to a coffee shop down the street. Jughead orders a large black coffee, as always, and Betty gets a latte. They sit around a small table by the window, legs so close that their knees touch beneath the table.

Betty sips carefully from the hot cup in front of her and he's pleased to note that her rings are still on her finger. _Interesting_.

"How's work?" he asks to get the ball rolling.

"Good, busy. It's the middle of the month so everyone's getting together to toss ideas around for next month's issue."

He nods, familiar with this pattern in Betty's job.

"What about you? How's the book going?"

"It's going," he says with a sigh. "My publishers riding my ass to get some new chapters to him but I don't think they're ready yet."

"Ever the perfectionist." She smirks over the rim of her cup.

She's quiet for a moment and she looks almost nervous. She licks some foam from her top lip and Jughead's eyes trace the movement, unable to look away.

"How's it going with the sponsor?" she finally asks.

He's not surprised at her interest. They may be separated but he knows Betty still worries about him.

"Really good," he replies. "It'll be four months next Wednesday."

She smiles, wide and sincere, and quickly squeezes his fingers with hers.

"That's amazing, Jug. I'm so proud of you."

He wants her to be proud because he's doing this for her and their boy. He's also doing it for himself - to put that awful, destructive hole he'd gotten himself into behind him - but his biggest motivation is the two people he can't live without.

"Yeah, well, I had to do something. I was a mess and I lost my family because of it."

"Juggie," she sighs. "You haven't lost us. Elliot and I are still here and we're not going anywhere."

"It's the not same, Betts. I miss you.. so much." Betty looks shocked by his admission but now that he's started, he can't stop. "I missing waking up with you and your face being the first thing I see. I miss smelling your perfume when you get dressed for work in the morning. I miss pancakes on Sundays and having Elliot snuggle into bed with us to watch movies. I miss it all, and I can't believe I fucked it up."

Betty turns to look outside the window and he can see the tear slipping down her cheek. He wants to cry with her but he's feeling really stupid. He shouldn't have said all of that. It wasn't fair to lay that on her.

He reaches out to her. "Betts, I'm sorry-"

"I have to go," she says, standing abruptly. "I'll drop Elliot off at your place tomorrow night."

"Betty, don't go," he pleads as she brushes past him, but she's already gone, heels clicking across the hardwood floor of the coffee shop.

 

 

 

They've never said much to each other when Elliot was dropped off at their respective homes, but for the past few weeks Betty has barely said 'goodbye' before she's out the door. Sometimes she doesn't even look him in the eye and leaves as soon as Elliot has stepped inside.

His sponsor, Jan, had been slightly worried. He'd been pretty distraught when he first told her what he'd said to Betty in the coffee shop, but he'd calmed down eventually and hadn't even thought about touching alcohol. He was definitely learning to deal with his emotions better.

It's three weeks after the coffee shop incident when shit hits the fan.

Jughead is shocked when he drops Elliot off at her house and she invites him inside. Their boy had fallen asleep on the drive over and he's slumped over Jughead's shoulder as he carries him into his bedroom and tucks him into bed.

"What's up?" he asks when he returns to Betty downstairs.

She's in her kitchen, drinking a glass of wine, and there's a brown envelope on her counter. _Fuck._

She knows he's spotted it.

"I had them drawn up last week. You just need to sign them."

"No," he says firmly and he's shaking his head like a toddler about to have a tantrum. "I'm not signing anything, Betty."

She sighs, puts her glass down on the counter, ready for a fight.

"You knew this was coming, Jug. This is how separations work - first you separate and then you get divorced."

"I know how they fucking work," he snaps. He tries to keep his voice low, conscious of the sleeping child upstairs, but his anger is evident. "Is this seriously what you want? For six years of marriage, thirteen years together to be thrown away?"

"I didn't want _any_ of this!"

She's crying, fat tears rolling down her chin and along her neck. There are dark circles beneath her eyes, their usual brightness dimmed by her sadness, and he wonders how the fuck they ended up here.

Of course, he already knows the answer.

"I'm getting better, Betty. I know I fucked everything up but I'm getting help. I've been sober for months, ever since you told me you couldn't do this anymore!"

"That's the problem, Jug!" she yells at him. "I begged you for months to get help, to speak to somebody, and it wasn't until you lost me that you finally did something."

He doesn't know when he started crying but his face is wet with his tears.

"Please don't do this, Betty. I can't live without you - you're everything. You and Elliot are all that matters to me."

She's sobbing now, huge heaving breaths leaving her throat as she slumps against the kitchen counter. He approaches her carefully, places his hands on her neck and presses his forehead to hers, his eyes closed.

He's desperate. "Please, Betts. Please don't do this."

Her breath hitches as he presses a soft kiss to her forehead, her cheekbone, her jawline.

"Please," he murmurs again as he rubs his nose against hers.

And then she's kissing him.

It's sloppy and bruising, and her tears have made her lips taste faintly salty. He presses himself flush against her, pushing her back into the counter as his hands move from her neck and into her hair.

She makes a pained noise as the worktop presses into her skin and pulls away briefly to lift herself onto it. He is on her again in seconds, slotting his body between her legs and slipping his tongue into her mouth. His hand pulls down the top of her dress to cup her breast.

She's completely in control here - she kissed him and only she knows where this is going, but he thinks they're on the same page when she tugs at his sweater. She lifts it over his head and lays thick kisses along the newly exposed skin of his collarbones and chest, before meeting his mouth again.

His hands slide beneath her dress, feeling the soft skin of her thighs, and she moans into his mouth, bucking her hips forward. He drags his fingers along her underwear, groaning at the wetness he finds, and she pants into his mouth, "Take them off."

He doesn't need to be told twice. He stuffs her panties into his back pocket as soon as he's slipped them off her ankle, and then presses two fingers inside of her, curling them in that way she likes.

"Jug, please," she begs, breathless, pulling open his jeans. "Fuck me. I need you to fuck me."

He needs her too but a sick part of him likes hearing her plead for him. She's so cold towards him these days but he knows by her tone that she's missed him as much as he's missed her.

Her hand is pumping him, her rhythm faltering as he circles her clit. She's always been so responsive and he loves that he can still make her feel this way.

She grows impatient and pulls him to her, lining him up with her entrance. He brushes her hand away and rubs his tip through her wetness before he pushes inside.

It's hard and fast, Jughead setting a brutal pace as he fucks into her. He braces one hand against the cabinet above them, the other buried in her hair. Her nails are piercing his shoulders as she clutches onto him, her breathless moans ghosting across his neck.

"Touch yourself. Make yourself come," he demands.

Her hand slides down her abdomen almost immediately, her fingers rubbing tight circles against her clit. He's so fucking close but he needs her to get there.

He buries his head into the crook of her neck. "Come on, baby. Come for me."

It only takes a few more snaps of his hips and she's clenching around him, a loud moan leaving her lips as she pulls his orgasm from him.

He slumps against her, boneless, both still riding the aftershocks. His forehead is pressed to her shoulder and he can feel the heavy rise and fall of her chest as she tries to catch her breath.

Reluctantly, he pulls out of her, the evidence of what they've just done visible between her legs. She's a mess, her hair matted from his hands, her lips red and swollen and her dress pulled down haphazardly, exposing one breast.

She's fucking beautiful and he wants her all over again.

Neither of them say anything as he tugs his sweater back on and she straightens her dress. He grabs his keys from where he tossed them in the kitchen and presses a quick, hard kiss against her mouth.

He tilts her chin up and looks her in the eye.

"We belong together, Betty. I'm not letting you forget that."

He leaves before she can argue, locking and closing the door behind him, that fucking brown envelope the furthest thing from his mind.

 

 

 

After the first time, they can't stay away from each other.

They fuck in secret - in his car, her car, his apartment. Never her house. With the exception of the first night, Betty didn't want to risk Elliot overhearing them, or God forbid, seeing them. Having sex in the kitchen had been reckless and Elliot didn't need to be confused more than he already was.

She drives over to his place during her lunch breaks, meets him after work when her mom thinks she's gone to the gym and watches their kid.

It's hot and passionate, always a little rough, and Jughead feels like he's sixteen again. Hormone-driven and desperate for each other, they haven't had this much sex since they lost their virginity to each other in his dad's trailer.

He wants her, all the time, but he doesn't know where he stands with her. Is this leading to something? Is she finally going to see that they belong together and take him back?

He's not sure and so he's very careful during their encounters. When they were married and living together, Jughead and Betty had both been very vocal in bed, letting the other know how good it felt and what they liked. Now, though, they don't say much at all. There's the occasional curse word or moan of a name, but there are no words of praise and definitely no declarations.

Eventually Jughead's brain forgets that last unspoken rule and he manages to fuck everything up.

They're in the backseat of her car, sweaty and breathless as they move together. Betty is tightening around him, a moan tearing from her throat as she comes. Jughead can't stop looking at her - the damp hair stuck to her flushed skin and the long, pale column of her neck as she throws her head back. She's gorgeous and he can't believe that she used to be his.

His hips pump into her twice, three times before he comes inside of her, his moan of "I love you" escaping him before he has a chance to take it back.

Betty's tense above and he knows he's messed up. She's climbing off of his lap and pulling down her skirt before he has a chance to process.

That's another thing - there's never any cuddling or affection afterwards. Betty leaves as soon as it's over, barely looking back at him on her way out. If he doesn't say something soon she'll be gone before he can.

"Betty, stop," he pleads, grasping her wrist. "Don't just leave. Talk to me."

She snaps her gaze over to his and she's furious.

"This isn't working, Jughead. We have to stop. We've been so fucking stupid. We're getting divorced, for Christ's sake." She wipes a few tears away, laughs humourlessly. "Why are we doing this to ourselves? We're living apart, we're both still so bitter about what happened."

Jughead cups her face in his hands. "Betty, I love you. I've always loved you and that's never going to change. We're still so good together - you must feel that - and we can work on the rest. But this can't be the end of us, baby. We weren't supposed to end like this."

They're both crying, and he's so sick of shedidng tears over this whole mess.

She pushes his hands away softly and bites her lip.

"I have to think about this, Jug. I need some time to think and decide what I want, and it's probably for the best if we don't do this anymore."

It's not an out-right dismissal and it's more than he's gotten in five months.

"Whatever you need," he insists, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Just let me know as soon as you've decided."

She nods, her eyes downcast, and he kisses her forehead.

"I'll see you later, Jug," she murmurs before she leaves the car.

He slumps back against the seat, exhausted, but hopeful for the first time in so long.

 

 

 

The weeks following, she all but ignores him when they see each other. He hadn't realised that her needing time to think would mean she would stop talking to him, but he doesn't question it. She needs to do this her way.

Elliot notices the tension.

"Is mommy okay?" he asks one afternoon as they're walking through the grocery store.

They're making pizza from scratch tonight and Elliot's little arms are wrapped around his favorite topping - a jar of black olives.

Jughead is startled by the question and almost drops the basket in his hands.

"Of course she is, Bug. Why? What has she said?" He doesn't look at Elliot when he says this, doesn't want to give his surprisingly perceptive son any more reason to worry.

He shrugs. "She was crying. And she doesn't smile like mommy anymore."

God, he wishes Elliot hadn't picked up on something like that but Betty's got such a sunny disposition that even a four year old noticed when it disappears.

He crouches in front of his boy, tips his chin up to look him in the eye.

"You get sad sometimes, right?" Elliot nods. "Well mommy's and daddy's can get sad too, and that can make them cry. But it's not forever and she'll be happy again soon. You just need to be extra nice to her until that happens."

Elliot's eyes light up. "We should get mommy a present. Like when mommy gets me ice cream when I help her. That makes me happy."

He smiles. "That's a great idea. What should we get her?"

"Flowers," he responds with a decisive nod. "Like the ones in Aunt Polly's yard. She always smells them when we go to her house."

This side of Elliot was all Betty.

"I think mommy would love that, E. We'll go get some tomorrow morning before I take you back."

Elliot seems satisfied with that answer and they head off into the store in search of pizza sauce.

 

 

 

"Are these for me?" Betty beams at Elliot as she takes the colorful bouquet from his outstretched hand. "They're beautiful, sweetie. Thank you so much."

She bends to his level and covers his face in kisses, making Elliot giggle. His heart physically hurts at the sight of them.

Satisfied with his mother's reaction, Elliot runs inside, dropping his backpack on the floor as he dives onto the sofa.

"Thank you," Betty says softly, looking up at Jughead.

He raises his hands. "I can't take credit for it, Betts. It was all Bug's idea."

"Still... thank you. These can't have been cheap," she says as she admires the flowers.

They weren't but it was worth it for the look on her face.

"You okay?" he asks softly.

She nods. "I'm okay. Are you?"

"I'm good. I miss you, though."

Her smiles shifts into something sad. "Me, too, Jug."

He shoves his hands into his pockets before he does something dumb.

"Bye, Bug!" he shouts to Elliot through the doorway. "Bye, Betts."

"I'll see you soon, Juggie," she responds and he hopes thats true.

 

 

 

He's still half-asleep when he goes to answer the door. He has no idea who it could be. Elliot is at school, so Jughead knows he hasn't forgotten to pick him up from Betty's, and Archie would have texted him if he was coming over.

When he swings the door open, his brow furrows at the site in front of him - Betty, dressed up in her work clothes, hands curled up into her palms as she breathes out a, "Hi."

"Uh... hey." What is she doing here?

"Can I come in?" she asks, adjusting her bag on her shoulder. She looks nervous and twitchy.

"Sure," he says, stepping aside.

She walks into his apartment but doesn't make any moves to sit down; she just stands awkwardly in his living area, eyes shifting around the room and never really landing on him.

He grasps her hand to get her attention.

"Everything okay?" he asks.

She licks her dry lips and finally meets his eye.

"I think I might be pregnant."

He blinks, not really hearing her. "Oh." Then, it hits him. " _Oh_. Oh, shit."

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the response to this :)
> 
>  
> 
> FYI, there's some sensitive subject matter in this chapter. Um, buckle in?

When Jughead had been a teenager, finding his father dead had been an all too-real possibility. His dad had been in the depths of his alcoholism - sober one week and then back on the bottle the next. There had even been times when he'd gone back to the trailer to find his dad passed out and had panicked when it took just a little too long to wake him up.

FP dying had been something he'd almost expected, prepared himself for, and that's why he's so shocked when he takes his actual death so hard.

It starts after the funeral. He spends the day in a suit that he hates, around people who offer him condolences and _sorry for your losses_ without really knowing what it was like to grow up as FP's kid.

The serpents have dispersed over the years, so only the ones who had been actual friends to FP turn up for the service. His mom doesn't come - he had invited her, over email - but Jellybean is there, looking sad and uncomfortable, mourning a father she never really knew that well.

Betty doesn't leave his side all day, hasn't really left it since he got the phone call. She's always there with a soothing hand rubbing his back, trying to offer him whatever support she can.

"Hey, Bug," Jughead murmurs, bending down to lift up his son who is whimpering at his feet, his arms outstretched.

"I'm tired, daddy," he moans, rubbing at his eyes irritably.

"Me, too, buddy," he says, pressing his cheek against his son's soft hair.

"He needs a nap," Betty observes, smoothing her hand along Elliot's head. "I'll take him."

"No, it's okay," Jughead says, clutching him a little tighter. He likes his weight in his arms - it's grounding and it gives him something to occupy his time. "I'll sit with him, he can nap on me if he needs to."

"Okay," Betty says softly, no argument today.

Elliot is drooling against his shoulder when Archie and Veronica come over with Fred, their best sympathetic looks in place. He wonders if Fred is kind of relieved that his old friend finally kicked the bucket after so long spent destroying himself and hurting anyone around him. It's a fucked up thought, but Jughead's been having a lot of those recently.

"How are you holding up, man?" Archie asks. "We can ask everyone to leave, if you want?"

Jughead nods. "Maybe in a little while."

"We're here for you, Jug," Fred reassures him, Veronica nodding in agreement at his side. "Whatever you need, just give us a call."

Jughead offers his thanks but he knows he won't be calling them.

Later in the evening, when everyone has left their house and Betty and Elliot have gone to bed, Jughead sits in his office alone. His jacket is long gone, his tie loose around his neck, but it's still not enough and Jughead feels like he's suffocating.

He hasn't cried yet - no matter how many times Betty assures him that's a normal reaction - so he's surprised when he feels moisture on his face as he pours himself a glass of whiskey.

 _Comforting myself with the thing that killed him_ , he thinks, swishing the liquid around the glass. Maybe he's more of his father's kid than the thought.

Choking on your own vomit is a hell of a way to go. Jughead wonders if the grisly death was his father's penance for all that he'd done wrong.

He sits alone with that thought, sipping his whiskey.

 

 

 

It becomes a nightly occurrence, Jughead having a drink in his office. Betty leaves him to it, unaware of the alcohol he's stashed beneath his desk, just trying to be a supportive wife and letting him have some time alone.

He usually drinks a beer or two, just to take the edge off. But soon two beers becomes three, and then four, and then Jughead's finishing an entire six-pack in a night, hiding the evidence in his desk drawer.

He doesn't dwell on the fact that he's hiding his drinking from his wife. He tells himself it's because he doesn't want to worry her anymore than she already does, and usually pushes the thought aside as soon as it arises.

If she notices the beer on his breath or his unsteady gait when he comes to bed, she doesn't say anything. She still snuggles into him, wrapping him up in her love, and he's always known she was too pure for him.

It isn't until he's been going through this cycle for two months that shit finally hits the fan. He comes home one day, heads straight to his office. He usually reserves his drinking for the nighttime, when his family are in bed, but today had been a tough one - he had emptied FP's trailer - and he needs something to relax him.

Betty's waiting for him in his desk chair when he gets there, tears in her eyes and a trash bag in her hand.

"What the hell is this, Jughead?"

Jughead flinches at her tone as the panic sets in, prickling up his neck.

"How did you find that?" he asks, giving her no explanation.

"I was looking for a pen in your drawer when I noticed it. What is going on, Jug? How much have you been drinking?"

He doesn't know what to do or say. He'd thought he was doing a good job of clearing up the evidence, stashing the empty cases in a bag in his drawer and then dumping the bag in the trash outside the local supermarket at the end of the week. He always did it alone, every Sunday, without fail.

But today is Thursday and there's already three empty cases in the bag.

"I'll stop, Betty, I promise. It's just temporary insanity."

"Jug," she starts, looking unsure.

He kneels down in front of her, rests his palms against her thighs.

"I'll stop - I will. I haven't been coping but I'll try harder," he promises, wanting her to drop this now as the shame creeps over him. "I'll even go to one of those grief counselling meetings you've been talking about."

"Juggie." She holds his face between her palms, looking sad and exhausted. "What happened to your dad was awful and you need to deal with it. You don't have to go to those meetings if you don't want to, but you need to find another way to cope. We can't lose you, Jug."

"You won't," he says, fiercely. He clutches at her skirt as he mumbles, "I'm sorry, Betts. I'm so sorry. It won't happen again."

And for a while, it doesn't. He quits drinking, stops buying six packs while Betty's out at work, and throws himself into his writing. He writes four new chapters in twelve weeks and his editor praises him for the work he's turning out.

He makes a conscious effort to spend more time with Elliot. His drinking hadn't affected his time with his son, thank God, but Elliot was a good distraction when things got tough and he was thinking about driving to the store. Betty had thrown out any alcohol she could find in their house.

Things are good, he isn't thinking about his dad nearly as often as he used to and Betty seems so proud of him for getting a handle on things.

Then Archie invites him to go drinking with his work buddies.

He tries to let Archie him down with various excuses about being too tired and not feeling up to it, but he's having none of it. It isn't his fault - Jughead hasn't told anyone he's stopped drinking.

"It's just one night," Jughead reasons, buttoning up his shirt.

Betty bites her lip, watches him get dressed from her spot on their bed.

"You won't drink more than a couple, will you, Jug?" And she sounds naive even to her own ears.

"Only a couple," he repeats and drops a kiss onto her lips.

 

 

 

Jughead stumbles in front of the door, struggling to slide his key into the lock. When he finally gets it open he almost falls on his face in the entryway. He kicks his shoes off and hangs his jacket on the hook on the wall before climbing the stairs, each step taking more effort than it should.

Betty is asleep when he enters their room. She's curled up on her side, buried beneath their duvet and when he looks at her like this - serene and peaceful, face completely relaxed - he can't believe that he got to marry her. She's clearly an angel.

"Betts," he whispers as he shrugs out of his clothes. He climbs into bed, presses his body up behind her, places kisses on her shoulder. "Betts, wake up."

"Hmm?" she mumbles, turning to face him, blinking her sleepy eyes open. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I just missed you," he says, pressing his mouth to hers.

She moans at the contact, hand reaching up to play with the hair at his neck. He trails kisses along her jaw and neck, getting her wet for him, and settles between her legs.

He presses his fingers against her, wanting to feel how much she wants him, but his vision is getting hazy. He can't concentrate and the room starts to spin.

She's panting against his neck, begging him to do something, anything, and he tries to be in the moment but he can't focus. She bucks her hips up into his, searching for friction, but stops when she finds nothing.

He feels dizzy and unsteady as she pushes him away from her.

"What's going on?" he slurs, sounding much drunker than he had felt when he got home.

Betty turns her back to him, her decisive, "Goodnight, Jughead" leaving him alone in the dark.

 

 

 

His head is pounding when he wakes up. Betty's side of the bed is empty which is unusual on a Sunday - they always lie in bed together until it's time to wake Bug up and have breakfast. He vaguely remembers snippets of last night, so he has some inclination as to why she would be mad.

Betty is whipping up pancake batter when he makes his way downstairs. He presses a kiss to the back of her shoulder as he reaches for the coffee pot and feels her tense up under him.

He sighs heavily. "Betts, I'm sorry. Last night was messed up but it happens sometimes. I don't know why-"

She whips her head around, furious. "Are you fucking serious?" She's not yelling for Elliot's sake but the anger is evident in her words. "We both know why that happened last night - it's because you were drunk!"

He reaches a hand out to her, "Betty-"

She pushes his hand away. "You told me you wouldn't drink too much, Jug! You said only a couple of beers and look what happened! You got wasted."

"Betty, I'm sorr-"

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.

"I am so _sick_ of hearing you say those words. You need help, Jug."

His throat feels tight and he thinks this is how his dad must have felt, all those times that Jughead refused to listen to him when he said he'd stop.

"I'll stop drinking again - it worked the last time. I won't touch another drop."

She swallows thickly looking like she wants to cry.

"This is your last chance. I can't keep doing this."

Jughead nods, grateful that she's not turning her back on him.

"Now go and have a shower before Elliot wakes up," she tells him. "You look like shit."

 

 

 

He stops again and things get better, but it's not like the first time. Betty looks wary of him and he can feel her watching him when she thinks he isn't paying attention. She hovers a lot and she never seems to completely relax, but he holds up his end of the bargain, so he waits for her to recognize that he's actually getting better.

It's a few weeks after his night with Archie that Betty goes out herself, for a fancy dinner with Veronica. She's all dressed up in a green wrap dress and he just wants to pull it off her.

"You smell so good," he mumbles into her neck, drops soft kisses across her shoulder.

She giggles and pushes back against him.

"Juggie, stop," she protests weakly even as she tilts her head to the side to give him more access. "I can't get my dress wrinkled."

"Why don't you just stay here, tonight," he suggests, smoothing his hands over her hips.

She spins in his embrace and kisses him quickly, stepping away before he can deepen it.

"I have to go," she tells him, picking up her clutch from her vanity. "I won't be back too late."

He grumbles as he follows her down into the living room. It isn't that he doesn't want her to go out and have fun - she just looks so good and he wants to keep her all to himself.

She leans over the sofa to drop a kiss onto Elliot's hair. He looks up at her with a big grin.

"Bye, sweetie. Be good for daddy, okay?"

"Bye, mommy," he calls back, but his attention is focused on the movie in front of him.

She presses her hands against Jughead's chest and kisses him one last time. "I bought some ice cream earlier for you and Bug. It's in the freezer. Don't eat it all!"

He rolls his eyes. "I'm not a kid, Betts."

"No," she agrees, "but Elliot is, and he can convince you to do anything he wants. He has you wrapped around his little finger."

She has him there. A horn sounds outside, Veronica arriving to pick Betty up.

"Go!" he tells her, nudging her out the door. "I love you."

She grins, blows a kiss over her shoulder. "Love you, too. Don't wait up for me!"

If only he'd known that that was going to be the last good moment between them. He never would have let her go.

He and Elliot spend their night watching movies on the couch - all Elliot's picks - and eating probably seventy-five percent of the ice cream. It's not all of it, so Betty can't yell at him.

Elliot falls asleep halfway through the third movie, his little body tucked up against Jughead's side. Jughead lifts him carefully into his arms, not wanting to disturb him, and carries him up to bed.

He isn't sure what to do with himself after he's tucked Elliot in. He doesn't want to watch another movie and Betty would kill him if he watched an episode of House of Cards without her. He decides writing is the best option and makes himself a cup of coffee before settling in front of his laptop.

He hasn't been writing much lately, struggling with both motivation and inspiration. He'd received multiple emails from his editor asking if everything was okay and he'd only responded to a couple, not really knowing what to say to her. She was just another on a growing list of people he was disappointing these days.

He decides to outline the next few chapters, searching through his drawers for a notepad, when he comes across the box. It's scruffy and broken at the sides, the cardboard splitting apart.

He hasn't looked at this box since he took it from his dad's trailer, locking it away inside his desk as soon as he'd had the chance. He wasn't sure why he'd brought it home in the first place. Clearing out the trailer had been a depressing reminder of just how little his father had actually had, and he'd kept this small box that he'd found at the back of his wardrobe. He'd peeked at the contents that day - it was filled with photographs - but he hadn't really looked through it until now.

He places the worn top of the box on his desk and retrieves the stack from inside - it wasn't just pictures, but also notes and a couple of letters.

There are pictures of Jughead as a baby - on his dad's lap, FP looking happier than Jughead had ever seen him; nestled on the sofa between his parents at Christmas. There is one photo of him and a newborn Jellybean at the hospital, her dark head poking out of the hospital-issued blanket. The letters are from his mother - dating back to their high school years, they were love letters, her mom declaring her undying love for his dad and telling him how lucky she was to be FP Jones's girl. And there are also two tiny hospital tags, both marked _F. Jones_.

His dad's whole fucking world fits inside of a shoebox and it makes Jughead weep.

He throws the items back into the box, tosses the box back into the drawer. It had been a mistake to look at it. He'd finally started moving on from his grief - at least he thought he had - and now he was depressed and angry, angry at the tragic life his father had lead.

He feels twitchy and anxious and he knows what he wants. Betty had thrown out all of the alcohol she could find a few months back but he was sure that bottle of whiskey he'd opened after the funeral was hidden at the back of the cabinet in his office.

He just needed a little bit - one swig to calm his nerves.

He screws off the top and takes a large pull straight from the bottle. Then he takes another. And another.

 

 

 

He feels groggy when he wakes up. His head hurts and his neck is aching from sleeping slumped in his desk chair. He rubs at his eyes, realising he was still in his office, and stops short when he sees Betty curled up in the chair by the window.

His duffle bag is by her feet.

"I called Jellybean. She said you can crash at her place for the time being."

His brows pinch together.

"Betty-"

"I told you, Jughead," she begins. She didn't sound angry - in fact she sounded eerily calm, but he could see that her face was swollen from crying. "I told you that this was your last chance."

He sits up straighter. He's still not fully coherent but he feels dread creeping up his spine as he slowly realizes what is happening. _No, no, no_.

"Betty, please don't do this."

"I can't have you in this house when you're like this. What if something had happened last night? What if Elliot had hurt himself and couldn't wake you up?"

The suggestion that he would put Elliot in danger hurts more than he can put into words and he wants to argue with her - she _has_ to know he'd never do anything to hurt Elliot - but he knows she's right. He'd really messed up last night and he never would have forgiven himself if something had happened to their boy.

"Betty, can we please just talk about this?"

"I need you to leave, Jughead," she says firmly. "Jellybean will be here in fifteen minutes."

She slams the office door shut behind her.

 

 

 

It's a low point for him, crashing on his twenty year old sister's couch, in the apartment she shares with two roommates. He's an adult - he has a fucking kid - but his baby sister seems to have her shit together more than he does.

He's left in her apartment on his own, Jellybean having left for class not long after she dropped Jughead off. She didn't say anything during the drive, didn't ask how he was. He thinks she's angry with him but she can't be anymore angry than he is with himself.

He gets hungry around late afternoon and heads out into the city to get something. He's spent the majority of his day lying on the sofa feeling sorry for himself, always on the verge of crying if he isn't already.

He just wants to see his kid, wants to see his wife. He hates the fucking irony that while he was trying to recover from his father's self-inflicted death, he's ended up hurting himself in exactly the same way.

He grabs two burgers from a small place close by, eats one while he heads back to the apartment. The neon lights of the bar glare overheard as he walks by the window and he tells himself he shouldn't go inside; it would be the biggest mistake.

Jughead has always been two steps away from self-loathing ever since he was a kid, but in this moment he truly hates himself.

 

 

 

Jellybean is pacing up and down her living room when she gets Archie's call.

"Did you find him?" she asks urgently.

"I'm outside your building. Can you come down? I need some help."

Jellybean rushes down the stairs and outside, shocked to find Archie pulling a limp Jughead out of a cab. He smells terrible, soaked in booze, and he can barely focus on Jellybean when she grabs his face and forces him to look at her.

"What the fuck have you done to yourself, Jug?"

She hooks one arm around his waist as Archie takes most of his weight and together they get him up the stairs to her apartment. He flops down onto the couch, fully-clothed, and Jellybean begins to unlace his shoes.

"Did he call you?" she asks.

Archie nods. "He was rambling, I couldn't really understand him. Said something about Betty kicking him out, and I thought he was going crazy, but then you called and I figured something really bad had happened."

"He's an alcoholic and he needs help," Jellybean states.

When Betty had called her and explained what had been happening for the last six months, she had picked up on her sister-in-law's hesitance to put a label on it. Maybe that would make it too real, especially after FP had just suffered the worst possible fate at the hands of this disease.

Archie looks shaken by the information and drops down into an armchair.

"How long has this been going on?"

"Since the funeral - at least that when he says it started. You know Jug, he's never been much of a drinker, but Betty thinks dad's death really fucked him up. He hasn't been dealing with it at all and drowning his sorrows in booze."

Archie drags a hand across his face, trying to process the information.

"In a weird way, I think he always expected to end up just like FP," Archie confesses, staring at his best friend. "Even after he and Betty got serious and they had Elliot, he's never truly believed that he was worthy of them and the life they built together."

"It's a hell of a chip he has on his shoulder," Jellybean agrees.

Archie nods, sadly. "It's like a self-fulfilling prophecy. God, what a fucking mess. I need to call Betty. I can't believe she didn't tell me, she's being going through this alone."

"She probably didn't think. She's been dealing with a lot, Archie."

"I know." He sighs. "What are you going to do when he wakes up?"

"Stage a one-man intervention of sorts," she replies, the prospect slightly daunting. "Someone has to get him to admit that he has a problem."

"Well call me if you need any help," Archie offers.

"Will do."

Jellybean doesn't sleep well that night. She tosses and turns, always listening out for signs that Jughead is awake. She thinks a part of her fears she's going to wake up in the morning and find him dead on the couch, just like their dad.

Thankfully, the worst things he has to deal with are a nasty hangover and a wounded ego.

"How are you feeling?" she asks hesitantly but she already knows.

He grunts, taking a seat at the breakfast bar. "Fucking awful."

"You really scared me last night, Jug. Archie, too."

He frowns. "Archie was here?"

"You don't remember calling him?" He shakes his head. "You called him from the bar last night. He was really worried so he picked you up and brought you here."

Jughead looks embarrassed, unable to meet his sister's eye.

She covers his hand with hers and squeezes.

"If you want to go to a meeting, I can come with you. I don't mind."

He shoots her a dark look, clearly unimpressed.

"Why would I need to go to a meeting? It was one night, JB. A slip-up. I just need to talk to Betty and straighten everything out and it'll all be fine."

Jellybean exhales heavily, preparing to drop the bomb.

"Betty doesn't want to see you. You need to get your shit together and until you do, she doesn't want you around."

His nostrils flare. "Did she tell you that?"

"Not in so many words, but yes."

He pushes back from the bar aggressively, the stool screeching against the linoleum. He quickly pulls on his shoes and picks up the duffle from the floor.

"You don't need to worry about me, I'll stay in a hotel."

"We're just trying to help you, Juggie!" she calls out to him but he's already gone.

 

 

 

Betty agrees to meet him in the coffee shop attached to his hotel during her lunch break. It's been just over a week since she kicked him out. He hasn't drank any alcohol since that first night at Jellybean's place and he's had a lot of time to rehearse what he's going to say to her.

All of his carefully planned words escape him when he finally lays eyes on her.

She looks composed and lovely, as always, her hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail and not a single wrinkle in her clothes. If he didn't know her better he'd think she was perfectly happy, drama-free, but he knows her better than he knows himself and he can see the pain behind her eyes.

"How are you?" she asks quietly.

"Terrible," he admits. "I miss you and Elliot so much. How is he? Is he doing okay?"

"He's good," she smiles. "He asks about you. We got him a pencil case for school yesterday. He's excited."

Jughead grins at that. His sweet boy.

"That's good. He's gonna do great."

Betty nods, biting her lip. She's twisting the coffee cup around in her hands, shifting in her seat, constantly fidgeting.

"Look, Jug, I know you asked me to come here today but there's something I need to talk to you about." She takes a deep breath. "I spoke to Jellybean and she said you refused her offer of going to a meeting with her, and I'm really worried. I don't trust you around Elliot right now but I'm not going to try and stop you from seeing him, so I wanted to know what you thought about supervised visitation."

His blood is rushing in his ears. She's still talking but he's not really listening, the words _I don't trust you_ and _supervised_ _visitation_ racing through his brain.

"Is this really necessary? How long are you planning to keep me out of the house?" he asks, confused.

Betty blinks, taken aback. "Juggie," she says carefully and deliberately, as if speaking to a child. "You're not coming back to the house. That's not how separations work."

"Separation?" he repeats. His heart sinks into his stomach and thinks, _this is it - this is when his world implodes_. "You don't want to be with me anymore?"

She's blinking back tears. "Juggie, _please_."

He's starts to feel dizzy and his vision blurs slightly and he wonders if this is what a panic attack feels like.

"Shit," Betty mutters, staring at her watch. "My break is almost over. I have to go."

She places a hand over his and squeezes his fingers, unaware of the internal meltdown he's having.

"I'm sorry that I have to leave like this, and I'm sorry that everything has ended up this way," she tells him sincerely, and he believes her, because Betty has never meant to hurt anybody, ever. "I wouldn't be doing this if I didn't think it was the best thing for Elliot."

How can he argue with that?

He's not sure how long he sits in the coffee shop staring at Betty's vacant seat. He snaps out of it eventually, the dizziness subsiding, and that's when it hits him.

It's over. She hasn't just kicked him out for a week, they aren't just in a fight. She doesn't want him around anymore, doesn't want him around their son.

His fingers begin to twitch, as they have everyday for the past week, and he finally recognizes the gesture as a sign of withdrawal. _Fuck_.

It took his wife leaving him for him to finally stop lying to himself.

He texts his sister.

 

 **Jughead**  
Admitting you have a problem is the first step, right?

 

He gets a response almost instantly. 

 

 **Jellybean**  
What are you saying?

 **Jughead**  
I have a fucking problem. I really need your help.

 

Within seconds she has sent him a list of AA meetings in the New York area. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next and final chapter should be up soon!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning, I may have gotten carried away with the fluff here to make up for all of the angst. Enjoy!

Betty had come to Jughead's apartment prepared. Once he had recovered from his initial shock, she had pulled a pregnancy test kit from her purse and he had guided her into his bathroom. They were currently sat on the edge of his bathtub, the white stick resting on the counter and a timer running on his phone.

This was decidedly different from the last time they had done this. She remembered fondly how excited they had both been after months of trying. Betty had cried when the two lines appeared, relief and elation rushing through her.

Now she felt anxious and sick, not quite sure how to react to the possibility of a new baby.

The timer goes off and Betty's breath leaves her in a loud rush.

"You have to look, Jug. I can't."

He swallows but does as she asks, lifting the stick and inspecting the little window.

"It's negative."

She turns to him so quickly she almost gives herself whiplash.

"What?" Her voice sounds small.

"It's negative," he repeats. "You're not pregnant."

"Oh."

She bites her lip, suddenly wanting to cry. What is wrong with her? This was the best result they could ask for - having a baby together would only make things even messier than they already were.

"Betty?" She looks up at him. His face is pinched in concern. "Are you alright?"

She nods. "Mmhmm."

And then the floodgates open. She collapses against his chest, her tears staining his t-shirt as he wraps his arms around her.

He strokes her hair soothingly. "Shhh, it's okay, Betts. It's okay."

Her hand curls into his shirt as she admits, "I feel so stupid. Why am I crying over this? We can't have a baby."

"Betty don't do that. Don't dismiss your feelings. It's okay if you wanted it to he positive." He presses a kiss against her hair. "I can't say I was mad about the idea."

She pulls back to look at him. "Really?"

"Really," he says and his face is so open and honest.

She sits up straight, collects the moisture beneath her eyes and takes a few deep breaths.

"We're crazy, aren't we?"

He smiles softly. "Maybe. Or maybe we've been in love since we were sixteen years old, and the thought of having another little combination of the two of us running around really doesn't seem so bad." He tucks some of her hair behind her ear. "We did pretty great the first time around."

"That we did," she agrees, smiling at the thought of their little Bug.

"If you had been, I would have loved that kid so damn much."

"Even though we aren't technically together?"

He smiles sadly. "Even though."

"Me, too." She lets out a shaky laugh. "God, we're so dumb. We're almost thirty years old and we've been having unprotected sex for weeks. What did we think was going to happen?"

He laughs with her. "Yeah, that was pretty stupid."

He reaches out and takes her hand in his, rubbing her skin with his thumb.

"I love you, Betty," he says so quietly she almost doesn't hear him.

He looks so sad and she wants nothing more than to take him into her arms. She settles for linking their fingers together.

"I want to try again."

His breath catches as he looks up at her. "You do?"

"We've both suffered enough and I want to be with you. I'm tired of trying to stay away from you." She shrugs, a wry smile pulling at her mouth. "Besides, I've never been very good at it. Case in point." She nods towards the test.

He laughs and she watches his gaze flicker down to her mouth. He wants to kiss her, and she really, really wants him to, but she needs to make things clear.

"I want to take things slowly, Juggie. We can't jump into this - it wouldn't be fair to either of us or to Elliot."

"As slow as you want," he agrees, easily. "You're in control."

There's a brightness to his eyes that she hasn't seen in months - maybe years. She loves that she's the one to put it there.

"Okay, good." She stands up, smoothes out her skirt. "They're not expecting me at work for another-" she checks her watch "-two hours, so I suggest we go make out on your couch like teenagers. No roaming hands," she warns with a pointer finger. 

He grins, holding his hands in the air. "It'll be like when we first started dating."

"That's the idea, Jones." She jerks her head in the direction of his living room and holds out her hand. "Come on."

 

 

 

She's inspecting the 'Happy Birthday' banner in front of her, trying to determine if it fits with the theme.

"Does this look space-related to you?" she asks Veronica, holding up the banner.

"It has stars," she points out. "That's 'spacey'."

"I guess," she says and drops it into the cart.

It's Elliot's birthday in a week and she's throwing a space-themed party for him in her yard. Elliot's obsession with astronomy and space and the planetarium doesn't seem to be going anywhere, so Betty's pretty confident that he's going to like it.

Finding space decorations is harder than she expects - unless she wanted to buy only Star Wars products - but she was thinking more solar system than Darth Vader.

"Ooh, you should get these!" Veronica says, showing Betty the inflatable planets she has found on Amazon.

"Those are great. Can you send me a link? I'll order them tonight."

"No problem."

They continue through the store and she picks up a few packages of balloons, a '5' cake topper and some candles.

"Have you thought any more about going on a date with Steven?" Veronica asks and Betty forces herself not groan.

She'd been hoping to avoid this subject.

"I don't think it's a good idea, V. I'm not ready to start dating anybody."

Veronica rolls her eyes. "You don't have to _date_ him, Betty. Just have some fun. You haven't gotten laid since you and Jug split and that was six months ago."

_That's what she thinks._

"V, I know you're trying to help but I'm really not interested. And I promise that when I am ready, you will be the first to know."

Veronica sighs. "Fine. But for the record, I think you're making a huge mistake. Steven is gorgeous."

He is, and nice, too. But Betty had been newly single when they had met in a bar during a girls night out and now she was - well, she didn't know how to label what she and Jughead were, but she definitely wasn't single.

 

 

 

The party turns out pretty great.

There are gold and silver stars hanging from the trees and the inflatable planets are strung up between them, in front of the bounce house in the center of the yard. There's a platter of galaxy cupcakes on the snack table and rocket-shaped pieces of fruit and a birthday cake resembling Jupiter.

They had also set up a photobooth. Jughead and Archie had built a wooden rocket ship with a hole in the center and all of Elliot's little school friends were taking turns sticking their head through the hole to get their picture taken.

Elliot is thrilled. His face lights up when he enters the yard, taking in all of the different aspects.

"Daddy, look!" he says, tugging on Jughead's hand and pointing at the planets hanging above them. "Mercury!"

He grins at their clever boy. "That's right, E."

"Happy birthday, Bug!" Betty exclaims, wrapping him up in her arms and pressing kisses all over his face.

"Mommy!" he giggles, turning his face away from her attentions.

Archie runs up behind Elliot and lifts him into the air, making what she guesses are rocket noises as he runs around the yard. Elliot squeals as Archie shouts, "Commander Jones, you're coming in loud and clear!"

He carries him into a crowd of Elliot's classmates and she knows he's going to end up doing the same thing for ten other kids.

"I've never seen a man so desperate to be a dad," Jughead says beside her, watching Archie who is now surrounded by four and five year olds.

She smiles at him. "I know. He keeps trying to convince Veronica but she's not sure. She doesn't think they're ready yet."

Jughead shrugs. "They'd figure it out. We did and look how awesome our kid is."

Betty laughs. "So awesome."

Jughead leans slightly closer. "How are you?" he asks in a lower tone.

"Good. I've missed you. Going slow kind of sucks when you've already been married for six years."

"Yeah," he agrees with a laugh. "It'll be worth it though." He smiles down at her, his eyes softening. "You look beautiful today."

She looks down at her pink floral dress, twisting her fingers in the hem. She feels her cheeks heat up and she can't believe she's blushing because her husband has given her a compliment. "Thanks."

"I wanna kiss you so bad."

She looks up at him through her eyelashes and she can see the want plain on his face.

"Meet me in the kitchen in five minutes."

He backs away from her, smirking. Betty makes her way over to her parents who are sat around her outdoor table, glasses of fresh lemonade in hand.

They're talking to Jellybean which amuses Betty. Jellybean, with her bright pink hair and lip ring, is not the type of person the Cooper's associate with. But Jellybean clearly adores Elliot and they love their grandson, so their share some common ground.

"Hey, mom. Can you keep an eye on the bounce house? I'm gonna start cleaning up in the kitchen."

"Sure thing, honey."

She kisses her mother's cheek and tries not to look too suspicious as she heads towards the kitchen.

"This is risky," she says against Jughead's mouth as he pushes her against the counter. They really like this counter.

"Fun, though." He smirks and traps her in place, an arm on either side of her.

He kisses her hard, his tongue slipping into her mouth as his hand fists in the material of her dress. She knows he'd take it off her if she let him.

She moans into his mouth and slips her fingers into hair, tugging lightly. She doesn't know how she went all those months without kissing him, how there was a time when she truly believed she'd go through the rest of her life never kissing him again.

She's so swept up in him that she forgets to pay attention to the door to the yard, and they pull apart abruptly when they hear a loud gasp.

"Oh my god, V!" Betty shouts, quickly putting space between her and Jughead. Her face feels hot.

Veronica's eyes narrow. "You have a lot of explaining to do, Betty. Lunch. Tomorrow."

Betty just nods knowing there's no room for argument and Veronica is gone as quickly as she arrived.

"Shit!" Betty hisses, her head falling back against the cabinet with a thump.

Jughead looks sheepish. "I'd say I'm sorry but I'm not."

She glares at him. "You're not the one who has to deal with her questions tomorrow."

He comes closer and kisses her quickly. "I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you."

She quirks a brow. "How?"

"By taking you on a date next Friday."

"A date?" She smiles. "Like dinner and a movie?"

"If that's what you want." He rubs his nose against hers. "So, do you want to?"

"Definitely."

She gives him a lingering kiss, her hands pressed firmly against his chest.

"I have to get back out there."

He reluctantly lets her go and she steps back into the yard, a hopeful flutter in her chest.

 

 

 

She meets Veronica at their favorite bakery downtown. She orders a pastry and a cup of coffee and Veronica gets a slice of pie. Veronica doesn't say a word to her whilst they wait in line and Betty braces herself for the worst.

"What the fuck is going on, Betty?" Veronica demands as soon as they sit down at their table.

"Will you keep your voice down," Betty hisses, looking around at the other customers.

"Well excuse me for being angry about my best friend keeping secrets. Especially when those secrets involve her estranged husband," she snaps back.

"V, I'm sorry. I didn't know how to tell you and I really didn't want you to find out like this."

She doesn't seem interested in her reasons.

 

"What's the deal, B? Are you just sleeping together? Is he moving back in?"

This is what she had feared - the onslaught of questions she didn't really have the answer to.

So she starts at the beginning - she tells Veronica about that first encounter in the kitchen and all of the other encounters after it; she tells her about the heartache that followed and the pregnancy scare and their decision to take things slow.

Veronica's jaw is on the floor when she finishes her story and Betty feels a weight lift off her shoulders. She hadn't realized how badly she'd wanted to tell someone about the whirlwind events of the last six months. She'd also enjoyed Veronica's reactions to the more sordid parts of her story. Their sex life had always been great but the 'ex-sex' had been incredible.

"Betty Jones!" A few people turn to stare in disapproval at her volume. "That is the juiciest thing I've heard in years and it took you _this long_ to tell me. Wait until I tell Kevin - he'll be so pissed."

"Veronica, you can't tell Kevin. I don't want anyone else to know about this."

Veronica looks confused. "Everyone's going to find out eventually. People will notice when you don't get divorced and he's living with you again."

"That's a long way off. We're taking things slowly - or did you ignore that part?"

"Oh, please," Veronica scoffs. "If what I saw in your kitchen was anything to go by he'll have moved back in by the end of the month. I don't know why I'm surprised by all of this. You two will always be obsessed with each other."

They were definitely in love but she wouldn't say _obsessed_.

"V, promise me you're not going to say anything. I need you to stay quiet until we figure this out."

"I promise," she says, tone serious. Then she squeezes Betty's hand. "I just hope your being careful, B."

"We had a pregnancy scare - I think we learned our lesson."

"Not like _that_ ," she says with a dismissive wave of her hand. "I mean with your heart. You were devastated when you ended things with Jughead but you believed you were doing the right thing, and now only six months later, you're together again. It's a lot to deal with."

Betty sighs. "When I told Jughead I wanted to end things all I could think about was Elliot and him growing up like Jughead, with a dad who loved him but always put his vices first." She hadn't expected this sudden change in the conversation and it's making her emotional. "But Jughead got help, V. He's been sober for six months now, almost seven; he's been seeing a grief councillor. And isn't that the whole point of rehabilitation? To get your life back on track, to regain some sense of normalcy. I can't keep punishing him for the sins of his past."

She doesn't _want_ to keep punishing him. He's worked so hard to make himself better and it'll be an ongoing battle for the rest of his life, but Betty wants to be there to help him through it.

Veronica smiles at her and she thinks there's something akin to pride there.

"Betty Jones, you might just be the strongest woman I know. And if this is what you want, you know I'll support you."

 

 

 

As promised, Jughead takes her to dinner at her favorite Greek restaurant and then to see a movie. The movie is terrible but Betty and Jughead don't care; they spend the full ninety minutes making out in the back row like horny teenagers.

It's a fun night, light and teasing with no expectations and Betty can't stop smiling.

"I had a good time tonight," she says, turned towards him in the passenger seat of his car.

Their hands are joined over the console and she's playing with his fingers. She doesn't want to leave him just yet.

"Me, too." He tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. "We should do this again next Friday."

"Okay, but you pick what we do next time."

"Okay, sounds good." He leans across and kisses her, his thumb brushing a sensitive spot behind her ear. She moans softly and it must be the reaction he wanted because he smiles against her lips.

She gets out the car before she does something stupid like invite him inside.

"Goodnight, Juggie."

"Night, Betts."

When she walks into her house, Jellybean is on her in seconds.

"Elliot is asleep, all tucked up safely in bed," she assures hers. "How was it? What did you do? Are you guys getting back together?"

Betty laughs. "Slow down, JB."

Jellybean is the only person - other than Veronica - that she has told about their date, mainly so she had someone to babysit who wouldn't judge. She was really excited at the prospect of them being together again.

"It was really great," Betty tells her as she shrugs out of her coat, feeling a little shy. "We're going out again next Friday. I can hire a sitter if you don't want to do this again."

"There's no need," Jellybean says. "It's not like I'm out partying on Friday nights. I like spending time with my nephew. He's cool."

That was true. Jellybean didn't drink - probably a wise choice considering the Jones' history - and didn't have any desire to attend parties where the goal was to get as trashed as possible. If she said her Friday nights were free Betty wasn't going to feel too guilty about it.

"You're the best, JB. I'll have to take you out to dinner sometime, as a thank you."

"You don't have to do that, Betty. If me babysitting helps you and Jug figure things out, I'm happy to do it. I just want you all to be happy."

Betty is touched by her sister-in-law's support. After her conversation with Veronica earlier in the week and now this, she's feeling more confident in her decision to start trusting Jughead again, everyday.

 

 

 

The dates become a weekly thing. Sometimes they skip a week if something comes up that they can't get out of, but for the most part, Friday nights are reserved for their dates.

They take turns deciding what to do. That usually means they choose which restaurant they go to that week but sometimes they do something special like going to the botanical gardens or a Jazz club.

Each date ends with them making out in Jughead's car, this particular part of the night becoming longer and more passionate each time. Sometimes she feels desperate for him, to have his hands on her and feel him beneath her, on top of her. She knows he feels the same but they both seem to be holding back, never pushing past the boundary. It's like their thirteen years old and never passing second base.

A little while into their new routine, Jughead gives her a gift at the end of the night. He pulls away from Betty with one last kiss to her lips and presses something into her hands.

"What is this?" she asks, looking down at the moleskine notebook.

"That's a record of my sobriety." She doesn't understand. "When I first started going to meetings, I started a journal to help me work through my feelings. It's not much, mostly random notes and thoughts, but it's a true account of how far I've come since the day you told me we were over."

Betty's eyes close as she recalls the painful memory of that day. "Juggie, why are you giving me this?"

"Because I want you to know the parts of me that have changed since we've been apart."

She kisses him again, hard, and she loves him so, so much.

"Thank you for this. It means so much that you would give this to me."

Jughead tells her loves her before she leaves his car that night. She doesn't say it back - she doesn't think she's ready just yet - but she's getting there.

 

 

 

As soon as she gets into bed she starts reading. There are pages and pages of entries, some short, some long, some dated and some not, but each one has the same title above it.

 

**Day 10**  
_The shakes are bad today. I don't know how I ignored them before. They're so strong that I'm struggling to write this. I hope this goes away soon_.

**Day 23**  
_I saw Elliot today. We spent the day together with Jellybean and we went to the planetarium. Elliot loved it - he was fascinated by the stars and the planets and the sheer size of everything. I think the trip may have awakened a new interest._

_Betty didn't say much when we picked him up and dropped him off. Some days she doesn't even look at me._

_I haven't felt the shakes all week. I think that's a good sign._

 

Betty reads for hours, lingering on certain passages, especially those written around the time they started sleeping together again.

 

**Day 141**  
_Somehow I'd forgotten just how amazing it is to be inside of her. She's perfection - as much as she hates that word - and I would worship her body everyday if she'd let me._

_I have no idea what this means for us now. I told her I didn't want to sign the papers and that's only become more true now that I have the taste of her in my mouth and the memory of her beneath me again._

_But if she truly wants a divorce, I will. I'm not interested in forcing her to remain my wife if she no longer wants to be._

_It would kill me, if that's what she decided, so I just have to hope that what happened tonight was the beginning of something, not the end._

**Day 153  
**_How can it_ _be that good every fucking time?_

**Day 166  
** _We had sex in her car today and it felt so good I almost passed out when I came._

_I think I'm addicted to her, to the rush of being with her again, and that worries me. From one addiction to another and I'm not sure if this is any healthier_.

 

It's fascinating seeing that time from his point of view. Jughead's never been the most forthcoming - even after years and one child together - and this little peek inside his head has her reeling.

She loves reading about herself from his point of view. He's always told her that she's the most beautiful girl he's ever seen and he never even looks at other women, but she's never really believed that until she reads his detailed descriptions of her hair and her lips and the little constellation of moles beneath her right breast.

She also hates reading about how much she can hurt him. Some of the things he writes make it seem as though she holds his entire world in her palms and she could destroy him without even meaning to, at any second.

Jughead definitely has the ability to affect her more than anyone else in her life but she also knows that she can deal with the aftermath. Jughead doesn't cope so well when things get bad between them and she doesn't want him to give her that much power over him.

It's late when she finally closes the journal. She's all caught up to yesterday's entry and she knows there are passages she will read again tomorrow.

She falls asleep feeling lighter than she has in a while. She definitely has things she needs to say to Jughead on their next date but she also can't wait for their relationship to move forward.

 

**Day 187**  
_I've always wanted more kids with Betty. Elliot is the greatest thing in my universe and I don't think I really understood how happy I could be until I became his dad._

_A daughter would amazing. A little girl who looks just like her, a real little Cooper to grow up with our decidedly Jones boy._

_Having another kid now would have been messy and hard but it would have also been one of the best things to ever happen to us, I have no doubt._

_She says she wants to try again. Maybe we'll have our Cooper girl one day_.

 

 

 

Betty decides to wear her favorite red dress for their next date - a Saturday this time, instead of their usual Friday. She has plans for this evening and she wants to take his breath away when he comes to pick her up.

The dress is tight and the cut at the front is lower than what she would usually wear. She wears a matching red lipstick - to draw attention to what she has learned is Jughead's favorite feature on her face, her lips - and has Jellybean blow her hair out.

Jellybean whistles at her when she does a little spin in front of her mirror.

"How great does your mom look, E?" Jellybean asks Elliot from their spot on her bed.

He grins. "You look pretty, mommy."

Betty kisses his cheek, rubs the lipstick mark away with her thumb. "Thank you, Bug."

"Seriously, Betts, you look gorgeous."

"Thanks," she says shyly.

She _feels_ gorgeous. Reading Jughead's descriptions of her had made her feel so beautiful and she knows that he'll appreciate the effort she's put into getting dressed for tonight.

There's a knock downstairs and Betty checks her appearance one last time before grabbing her clutch.

She kisses Elliot and Jellybean goodbye before she leaves and hopes Elliot doesn't start asking too many questions. He knows that his parents are spending more time together lately - she hadn't wanted to lie to him - but he doesn't understand why his dad isn't living with them again. Betty's hoping that will change soon but she doesn't want to give him false hope.

"Fuck, Betty." Jughead's voice sounds strangled when she opens the door. His eyes are all over, taking her in, and she wants his hands to do the same. "You look incredible."

"You don't look too bad yourself," she responds, tugging on the tie around his neck. "Are we going somewhere special?"

He looks slightly embarrassed. "The restaurant is fancier than where we usually go. Thought I should dress up."

She smiles. "Well I like it." She slips her hand into his. "Shall we go?"

The restaurant really is fancy and Betty already knows that Jughead isn't going to let her pay half of the bill. He's treating her and it's going to cost him a small fortune.

They're seated at a cosy table at the back and Betty's glad she got so dressed up. All of the other diners are sharply-dressed and she doesn't think any of the fur coats in the room are faux.

"This place is too much," she tells him after the waiter has brought over their drinks.

She doesn't drink on their dates. He insists that he could handle it if she wanted to get a glass of wine but she doesn't mind. She doesn't need alcohol to have a good time with him and her lime and soda tastes just fine.

"I've wanted to bring you here for a while now," he admits. "And it's almost our anniversary, so I thought we should do something special even if we're not celebrating it."

"Why would we not be celebrating it?" she asks.

He looks surprised at her question. "I just thought... well we aren't _technically_ together at the moment, and I didn't know..." He trails off.

She takes his hand in hers. "We're married, Jug, and our marriage is very important to me. I know we've had a rough time of it but when I said I wanted to try again I was re-committing myself to our relationship. I gave up on it for a little while so now I want to appreciate it as much as I can."

His eyes soften. "You didn't give up on us, Betty. _I_ gave up on _myself_ and I didn't make things easy for you. No one blames you for wanting to check out. I wasn't exactly doing my part to be a good husband."

She doesn't want to cry tonight so she decides to lighten the mood.

"Well we're trying to move past all of that and I am so happy that we're about to celebrate seven years of being married to each other."

"Cheers to that," he says, knocking his glass of water against her drink in toast.

When they're eating their main course she confesses that she has finished his journal.

"The whole thing?" She nods. "What did you think?"

He looks nervous and she gives him a reassuring smile. "I loved it, Juggie. I'm so glad you gave it to me. It was hard to read at times but I think those parts were especially important."

"And you don't hate me?"

Her brows pinch together. "Why would I hate you?"

"I wrote about our sex life in there, Betts, and it got dirty."

"I'm aware. I was there, too." She loves the flush in his cheeks at her comment. "I liked reading those parts, it was almost as hot as the sex itself. And I also liked the way you wrote about me. It made me feel beautiful."

"You are beautiful," he tells her firmly, dropping his cutlery onto his plate and taking his hand in hers.

"Thank you," she says sincerely, because compliments fall from his lips so easily.

She squeezes his fingers and withdraws to pick up her fork again.

"There is something that concerned me, though."

He pauses mid-chew, worried.

"I don't like that you allow me to affect you so much, Jug. I know that comes with the territory of being in love, but it seems like every time we have a little fight you're ready to do something crazy to get me back in your good graces. It shouldn't be like that. A little fight isn't the end of the world."

He sighs and pushes his now empty plate away from him. He doesn't say anything for a few minutes and she thinks she's upset him.

"It hasn't always been like that, you know." She looks up at him as he finally speaks. "I've always been insecure about our relationship - ever since we were kids - always convinced that you could do better. It got better with time and then you married me and I knew you were really in it for the long haul. But when things got bad, all those feelings came back and then you left me and I felt justified, like I'd been right all along."

She wants to interrupt, to tell him that his insecurities about them are stupid and unfounded, but she knows he isn't finished.

"That didn't stop me from wanting you back and pleading with you when you tried to pull away. I can't be with anyone else, Betty, and the only thing that truly makes me happy is you and the life we've built together. I couldn't give up on that." His expression is so honest that it breaks her heart. "The last few months - the screwing around and taking things slow - have been tough for me and the ball has always been in your court. I guess I've been waiting for the other shoe to drop, for you to leave me again, and I'm so desperate to stop that from happening that you're every decision affects me more than it should."

She doesn't know what to say. He's right, she has been the one in control lately. Jughead's stance on whether they should be together has been clear from the start and she's the one who has slowed things down. She's happy with her decisions and she thinks they were for the best, but she hadn't realized that Jughead was so caught up in them.

"I'm sorry that you feel that way. I hope that changes as we move forward. I want you to feel like an equal part of this relationship, Jug. I don't want my decisions to dictate everything."

He smiles sadly. "It will, Betty. You need to learn to trust me again and when that happens, I hope I'll stop feeling so off balance."

She does trust him again and she needs him to know that, but she doesn't think her just telling him the words will make him believe it. She needs to show him.

The rest of the evening is much lighter. They polish off a dessert each and Jughead pays the ridiculous check. They drive back to her house in relative silence, their hands linked together between them.

When he parks outside she knows he's expecting this to end the way it usually does - making out in his car until she really has to get inside and leaving them both wanting.

Instead she says, "Walk me to the door?"

His eyebrows shoot up in shock but he recovers quickly. "Uh, sure."

Their hands are still linked as they walk up the path and she turns to him when they reach the white front door, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"I had a great time tonight even though the food was stupidly expensive."

He laughs and wraps his arms around her waist. "I think the creme brûlée was worth it."

"Maybe," she says against his lips and then she kisses him.

The kiss is hot and desperate, all tongues and teeth and panting breaths. His hands slide down to cup her ass and she buries hers in his hair, her fingers brushing across the back of his neck, making him shiver.

They move backwards as he pushes her against the exterior wall beside the door. He slots his thigh between her legs and she can feel him against her thigh, already half-hard. He's palming at her breast as she grinds against him and she comes to the sudden realization that any of her neighbors could come out right now and find them like this.

She pulls away, murmurs, "Do you want to come inside?"

"Seriously?" She nods. "Fuck... yeah, yeah I do."

She laughs at his eagerness and turns to unlock the door. He drops kisses along her neck and shoulders as she turns the lock and then grabs his hand to pull him inside.

Jellybean is watching TV on the couch when they walk in. Her eyes widen when she sees Jughead behind Betty and she has a twinkle in her eye as she grins at them.

"Hey, Jug," she says, mischief in her tone. "Fancy seeing you here."

He looks sheepish. "How's it going, sis?"

As much as Betty would like to watch JB tease her brother, she wants Jughead's hands on her more.

"Did Elliot get to sleep okay?" she asks to change the subject.

"Yep. He was awesome, as always. Passed out at 8.30 after his bath."

"Great," Betty smiles.

"So..." Jellybean rocks back and forth on her heels and Betty knows she's messing with them. She grins slyly and picks up her bag. "I'm gonna head out, leave you guys to... whatever is about to happen here." She waves her hand between the two of them.

"If you could do it quicker, that would be great," Jughead says impatiently and Betty hits the back of her hand against his chest with a laugh.

"Alright, alright, I'm going!" She kisses Betty's cheek, messes up Jughead's hair and heads out the door. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do!" she sings as she leaves.

Betty turns to him and wraps her arms around his neck again. "And what is that exactly?" Betty jokes and Jughead wrinkles his nose.

"I don't want to think about JB like that. It's killing the mood."

Betty quirks an eyebrow. "Oh, really?"

She kisses him softly, once, twice, then slips her tongue into his mouth as she trails her hand down his chest and to the front of his pants.

"Okay," he says against her lips. "Moods been lifted."

She giggles. "Let me lock up and we can go upstairs."

She locks the front door and hangs the key on the hook while Jughead goes around the room and turns off the lights and the TV. It's a routine from when they lived together and the familiarity of it sends a flutter through her belly.

They head upstairs and she pauses to check in on Elliot before they go to her bedroom. He's passed out for the night, starfished across the bed. Betty closes the door softly behind her.

When she turns around Jughead is in front of her, propped up against the wall.

"Okay?"

"Yeah. He's out cold. Won't be waking anytime soon." _Thank God_.

He smirks at her, no doubt thinking the same thing, and jerks his head. "Come here."

She closes the distance between them and presses her body up against him.

"You have no idea of all the things I want to do to you," he says, stroking his fingers along her jaw.

She smiles, teasing. "I think I have some idea."

He kisses her then, his hands cupping her face and the frantic energy from their kiss outside her door disappears, replaced with something sweeter.

They stumble down the hallway to her bedroom, her fingers already pulling at his tie. He shrugs his jacket off and throws it to the ground and she moves to unbutton his shirt.

She turns, pulls her hair over her shoulder and asks, "Unzip me?"

He pulls the zipper down, kisses the newly exposed skin, and she lets the dress fall to the floor. When she turns back to him his eyes are darker than before, pupils blown wide.

His eyes trail the length of her body, taking in the lacy red underwear she had worn in the hope that he would see her in it after their date. It was a great decision on her part.

"God, Betty, you're so fucking gorgeous."

His hands settle on her waist as he pulls her into him. He lays thick kisses along her neck as her hands move across the smooth skin of his chest. Despite all of the sex they'd had, they hadn't actually seen each other naked since before the separation, and this glimpse at his half-naked body suddenly wasn't enough.

She pulls his belt open and opens his fly, then pulls him over to the bed by his belt loops. He takes off his pants and underwear and she removes her bra, tossing it onto the floor with the rest of their clothes.

She looks up at his naked form as he stands in front of her. He's toned and sinewy, his tall frame only slightly filled-out with adulthood. They've been together for so long that she's watched these changes happen, seen him mature and become more comfortable in his body.

He resembles both the boy she had fallen in love with and the man she had married and she's never seen anyone so beautiful.

He is hard and leaking, so ready for her, and she brushes her hands against the muscles in his legs before she wraps her hand around him.

"Betty," he sighs as she pumps him, a startled gasp leaving him as she replaces her hand with her mouth.

They're clandestine encounters had always been rushed and never allowed much time for foreplay. Any preparation had mostly involved Jughead readying her with his fingers, getting her wet and aching for him as quickly as possible, so she wants to take her time to make him feel good.

She works his length with her mouth, wrapping her hand around the base, and relishes in the moans and sighs it pulls from him. His hand is buried in her hair and he's watching her, entranced by the sight in front of him. She looks up at him from beneath her lashes and is rewarded with a groan.

"Betty," he pants. "You've gotta stop or I'll come."

She pulls away and presses a kiss to his tip, tasting the stickiness there. He's on top of her within seconds, pushing her back against the bed and settling between her legs.

His hips buck into her, his cock brushing against her panties, and she moans, desperate for friction. He kisses her roughly, his hands all over her and she pushes up into him. She's so wet and she needs him to do something.

"Touch me," she pleads, hips still moving against him.

He slips his hand down over her panties, touching her through the lace. It's good but it's not enough. She wants him to make her come.

"Please, Juggie."

"I want to taste you," he says and she feels tingly at the thought. She loves when he goes down on her. "It's been too long."

She agrees - far too long - and almost cries in relief as he kisses his way down her body, pulling her panties down her legs as she goes.

He doesn't start with soft, warm-up kisses to her thighs like she expects, instead pressing his mouth directly against her, his tongue sliding through the wetness. She moans loudly, hands gripping his hair and he pulls away from her suddenly. She whimpers in protest.

"You have to stay quiet. We don't wanna wake the kid."

She nods quickly, wanting his mouth back on her. She'd forgotten what's it like doing this with a child in the house and she almost longs for the quickies in the back of his car where they could be as loud as they wanted.

Then he sucks on her clit and she remembers that they couldn't do _this_ in his backseat.

"Fuck, Juggie," she whispers, hips lifting up as he works her with his lips and tongue.

His hand reaches up to cover her breast, press her flat against the bed. He's so fucking good at this and she can't believe she's gone so long without it.

He slips two fingers into her, curls them as he licks against her clit and she moans  his name, so close to the edge. His fingers are relentless, moving fast and hard and the noise it creates is obscene. It only makes her hotter, desperate to come.

Her mouth opens in a silent scream as her orgasm hits. Jughead's mouth doesn't leave her, working her through it as she grinds against his face.

She's panting, boneless, when he finally pulls away. He kisses her thighs, her hip, the stretch marks on her stomach, the moles her had written about beneath her breast. She shivers when his tongue flicks against her nipple, still coming down from her high.

  
"I've really fucking missed you," she tells him as she pushes his hair back from his forehead.

"Missed me or my mouth?" he asks with a cocky smirk.

"Shut up," she laughs and he swallows the sound as he kisses her again. She can taste herself on his tongue.

He makes her come again, this time with his fingers, and she's a trembling mess when he finally pushes inside of her. He feels so good and she's so sensitive. She loves the fullness of him and the weight of his body on hers. The only man she's ever been with like this.

"So good," he moans, his hips moving in a steady rhythm.

She knows he's holding back. Their night had been lovely and romantic and there was an expectation for that to be followed by sweet, tender sex but she doesn't want that. She liked when they were rough with each other, when they fucked hard and fast, losing themselves in sensation. It didn't mean they loved each other any less.

"Harder, Juggie," she pants into his ear, hips rising to meet his.

He groans into her ear, burying his face in the crook of her neck as he begins to move faster. His hips hit the inside of her thighs again and again and she knows she'll find bruises there tomorrow. In the morning, he'll kiss the bruises softly before he takes her with his mouth again.

She knows he must be desperate for release so she slips her hand between them, works herself into another orgasm. He's mumbling incoherent words into her skin as he fucks her, and she tugs at his hair to bring his face to hers. They kiss, hot and messy, as she comes around him.

"Fuck, Betty-"

He can't hold back any longer and quickly pulls out, coming against the crease of her thigh with a low moan. He's panting above her, chest rising and falling with the effort, before he collapses on top of her, spent.

She cards her fingers through his hair and kisses his neck. He hums in contentment.

"I need to clean up," she whispers.

"Oh, sorry," he says lifting himself up and dropping back down beside her. She misses the weight of him immediately.

She hurries into the bathroom to clean up and smiles at her reflection in the mirror. Her hair is a mess and her mascara is smudged, and she looks really fucking deliriously happy. She washes her face quickly and brushes out her hair before returning to her bedroom.

He's under the covers when she walks in, face buried in a pillow. The sight makes her smile. She slips under the duvet and shuffles closer to him.

"Very presumptuous of you to fall asleep in my bed."

His eyes shoot open, looking immediately apologetic. "Shit, Betts, I'm sorry. I didn't think-"

"I'm just messing with you." She laughs and leans closer to kiss cheek. "I want you to stay."

A sleepy smile spreads across his face, still half-hidden by the pillow.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"This pillow smells like you."

She's definitely not blushing. "I may have started sleeping on your side of the bed," she admits.

His reaches out to cup her face, his thumb stroking her cheekbone.

"I hate sleeping without you, too," he confesses.

She moves even closer, presses her body up against his. "Well if you moved back in you wouldn't have to."

His gaze flickers over her face, studying her. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying you should be here with us, in this house, sleeping on your side of the bed."

He kisses her as soon as she ends her sentence. He's smiling against her mouth and she feels like crying.

"When should we do this? We need to talk to Elliot first and I need to tell my landlord I'm moving out."

"How about tomorrow night?" He raises his eyebrows in surprise. "I was thinking, if it's okay with you, that we could spend the day together tomorrow, all three of us. And then we could take him to dinner and tell him you're moving back in."

"You've got this all planned out, huh?"

She shrugs nonchalantly. "I've had some time to think about this and I knew I was going to ask you tonight, so I wanted to be prepared."

He kisses her again. "We should go to the planetarium tomorrow. You've never been and Bug would be so excited for you to see it."

"That's sounds like a great idea."

They kiss languidly for a few minutes, trailing soft fingertips across each other's skin. He's turned towards her now and she can feel him hardening again.

"You know," she starts, pulling away from his slightly, "you didn't need to pull out earlier."

"What?"

"After our scare, I went to the doctor and renewed my birth control prescription. I was hoping this would happen and didn't want to find myself in the same position again."

He groans loudly, burying his face into her shoulder. "You shouldn't have told me that, Betty."

She laughs. "Why not?"

"Because now I want to fuck you all over again."

"What a shame," she sighs dramatically.

He lets out a noise that can only be described as a growl and she squeals as he nips at her neck and rolls on top of her, hands on either side of her head bracing him above her.

She smiles up at him fondly, her silly husband.

"I love you, Juggie."

She feels her heart clench when he looks down at her, the softest expression she's ever seen crossing his handsome face. It's been so long since she's said those words to him.

"I love you, Betty. So much."

 

 

 

His arm is heavy around her waist when she wakes up. She stretches, wincing at the soreness between her legs, and turns over to look at him.

He's fast asleep in his rightful spot on his side of the bed and she is so glad that she gave them another shot.

She runs her fingertips across his jaw and he blinks his eyes open slowly.

"Morning, Betts," he mumbles, still half-asleep.

She smiles. "Morning."

"Sleep well?"

"Never better."

He grins and kisses her.

It's still pretty early but she knows Elliot will be awake soon and she wants to get started on breakfast before he gets up.

"Pancakes for breakfast?" she asks, sitting up in bed.

He moans. "I've missed your Sunday breakfasts almost as much as I've missed you."

She swats at his chest and he catches her hand in his. He pulls her back down and kisses her hungrily.

"As excited as I am for breakfast, there's something I want to do first."

"And what's that?"

He doesn't answer her and instead dives under the duvet and between her legs.

Eventually he does let her leave their bed but only because he's hungry for actual food.

She's pouring pancake batter into the frying pan when Elliot comes running into the kitchen, stopping short at the sight of both of his parents in the room.

"Morning, Bug," Jughead says from his seat at the island. He taps the stool next to him. "Come take a seat. Mommy's making pancakes."

"Chocolate chip?" he asks excitedly, now distracted.

"Of course," Betty responds over her shoulder. She adds another pancake to the stack beside her.

"Why are you here, daddy?" Elliot asks, straight to the point.

Jughead laughs. "Not beating around the bush today, kid." He rubs his hand over Elliot's head. _So much for telling him at dinner_.

Betty sets the pancakes down in front of them and takes a seat next to Elliot. They both tuck in, pulling pancakes onto their plates and smothering them with syrup. He definitely got his appetite from his father.

"Bug, we actually wanted to talk to you about that," she begins carefully. "As you know, daddy and I have been spending lots of time together lately and we thought it would be a good idea if daddy came to live with us again."

Elliot's gaze flickers between his parents, eyes hopeful. "Really?"

"Yep. Would you like that, Bug?" Jughead asks him.

He nods eagerly. "Does that mean you'll come to every Sunday breakfast now?"

"God, I hope so," Jughead replies, shoving a huge bite of food into his mouth.

Betty laughs and wrinkles her nose before turning back to their son. Elliot has syrup dripping down his chin.

"We were also thinking about going to the planetarium today. I've never been and I was hoping that you would come and show me your favorite parts."

Elliot's eyes light up. "I can show you all the constellations I learned in my book."

He trips up on the word 'constellations' and she thinks she will always adore this inquisitive side of her boy.

"That sounds awesome, E. You'll have to show me, too. You know so much more about space than I do," Jughead adds.

Elliot seems excited about educating both of his parents, humming happily as he chews.

Betty looks over at Jughead and he winks at her. As far as Sunday breakfasts go, it's pretty close to perfect.

 

 

 

"So we just lie back and wait for the show?" Betty asks, settling into her seat.

Elliot is wiggling in his own seat. "It's so fun, mom. The stars look so pretty."

She smiles at him and twists one of her fingers through his dark waves. "Can't wait, Bug."

Jughead returns from the bathroom and drops into the seat beside her.

"The guy at the door says it starts in three minutes."

Elliot grins, hands gripping the armrests of his seat. She's shocked that he's still so excited for the show. He's seen it so many times at this point.

"You look really pretty, by the way," Jughead says into her ear. "I meant to tell you that before we left the house."

She smiles at him, smoothing out the fabric of the lilac dress. She knows he loves this color on her.

"You're so sweet," she says and leans across the armrest to kiss his cheek.

The theatre has slowly filled with people since they got here and is now almost full. The lights suddenly dim and the room falls silent. She glances over at Elliot - his eyes are focused on the dome above him and there's a little smile pulling at his lips. He's so cute she could die.

"You ready, Betts?" Jughead whispers to her left.

She turns to him, the mood feeling strangely serious as she responds, "Yep."

She lies back and looks up at the dome, and as the dark room is suddenly filled with the projection of a million stars, she feels Jughead's hand slip into hers.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's all, folks. Well, not really. I have an idea for a little follow-up but I'm not sure when I'll post it. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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